


forgiveness is the final form of love

by queenmcgonagall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:57:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmcgonagall/pseuds/queenmcgonagall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for this prompt: ‘a bit of angst at first but ends in fluff. Louis and Harry have a mini-fight about something stupid, it ends with them kissing.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	forgiveness is the final form of love

Anger is one thing, but pain is another. Anger licks flames but flames die. Hurt and pain are slow waves that immerse you and pull you under and it’s hurt that’s washing down Harry’s throat right now.

It’s not like it was a planned night or anything. It’s not like Harry went to the supermarket and bought a dozen roses and he didn’t have a vase, so he stuck them in a plastic pitcher on the kitchen table. It’s not like Harry thought tonight would just be about him and Louis.

But Louis walks in the door and Harry’s so happy to see him, and then Louis’s phone is ringing and then someone’s saying Eleanor and Harry can see Haz-and-Lou night being pulled from his fingertips by the brown-eyed girl who sometimes feels like a third person in the relationship. Harry feels a little bit better seeing Louis’s face falling by the second as someone screeches through the phone but the resigned way that Louis puts his coat back on, slips his Toms back on, like he’s already given up, pierces Harry and makes him want to shred the roses into the sink.

He tells Louis so and Louis shouts back that Harry’s just making it harder and Harry wants to rush at him and pummel him with his fists until Louis understands that Harry is done with this, done with the secrecy, done with Louis only being home for seconds before he has to go out and live his other life.

"Leaving again, Lou?"

"Yeah, Harry, yeah I am."

Lately, there’s been a lot of yelling and even more sulking. Harry wakes up some mornings and he can’t stand the sight of Louis’s face, can’t deal with the crushing darkness that he feels surrounds him, even on sunny days. There are some days where the lies seem bigger and more impossible, where interviewers look like monsters, rearing their ugly heads and grinning at him like don’t they just know what they’re talking about, know it all, aren’t they just so chummy with the boys from One Direction.

Come, come, Harry, spill the dishy news, who’s the newest girl in the papers? And Harry smiles a smile that breaks Louis’s heart from across the room and its Louis’s denials that ring in Harry’s ears and make him want to leave, go home and quit.

So shit is hard, yes it is. But can’t he and Louis just have one night to themselves, have one evening where the outside world isn’t knocking on their windows and poking fingers under doors? Harry guesses no, they can’t.

It’s the final ‘fuck you’ that Louis flings at Harry before storming out of the flat that finally breaks Harry and then he’s stumbling over shards of glass from the plate he just threw at the wall. He leaves the mess there and lunges for his cell-phone, dialing the first number he sees.

Niall answers the door, doesn’t ask questions, and hands Harry a plate of pancakes. His sweet face is full of questions but he must sense the closed off expression on Harry’s face and instead just takes his bag from him and ushers him to the couch.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Alright. I’m watching Fast and the Furious. That good with you, mate?"

"Yeah, Niall, it’s fine."

It’s fine. Harry wants to snort with derision. When has anything been fine?

It’s 3 AM and the phone is ringing and Harry knows it’s only going to be one person. Niall looks at him out of the corner of his eye before reaching for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Lou, I’m not-"

"Fine."

Yes, fine, here he is.

Niall holds the phone out to Harry, a question in his eyes. Harry considers taking the phone and throwing it out the window. He considers picking up the phone and telling Louis to go fuck himself. He considers picking up the phone and telling Louis never to leave him again. Somehow, only the third option seems possible.

"Harry?"

"Hi."

"Hi. I’m home."

"I figured that out on my own, thanks."

"Harry…c’mon. Come home. I don’t want to do this over the phone."

"Do what?"

"This! Arguing, apologizing, whatever the fuck we have to do."

Harry can imagine Louis waving his arms around, trying to encompass the full expanse of whatever he’s trying to say. He can hear Louis’s heavy breathing, waiting for Harry to say something.

Harry has two choices: staying on Niall’s couch for the night and making up with Louis in the morning, with the sharp light making it a little bit harder to forgive, or going home tonight and having Louis lead him by the hand into their bedroom and whispering his apologies into Harry’s collarbone as he moves over him.

"I’ll be there in a minute."

Louis is at the door when he knocks and he takes his hand like Harry imagined, thumb softly stroking over the back of Harry’s hand enveloping his own. Harry lets his bag fall to the floor of the living room as Louis pulls him to the back of the flat; his eyes are mutedly flickering in the dark light, his hair shining silver from the moonlight streaming in the windows.

They’re at the door of their bedroom when Louis stops and he steps close to Harry, their chests almost touching. A ripple of unwanted fondness goes through Harry when he realizes Louis has to look up to see him. Louis places his hands on Harry’s hips, thumbs stroking patterns of heat into Harry’s skin, occasionally dipping below his waistband and every cell in Harry’s body flips upside down and goose bumps rise on the back of his neck. The soft brush of Louis’s eyelashes against his prominent cheekbones makes Harry’s heart swell with love and he just wants to pick Louis up and hug him but he knows this is Louis’s way of apologizing, so he lets him.

Louis leans in and attaches his lips to Harry’s collarbone, exposed where his t-shirt has been pulled to the side from lying on Niall’s couch. Harry’s head falls back and hits the door with a dull thunk and he hears Louis giggle a little bit as he sucks a love-bite onto the sharp juts of Harry’s collarbone.

He doesn’t want to forgive Louis, doesn’t want to just let him back in. But it’s hard to remember that when Louis is nosing along the column of his throat, when his deft fingers are unbuckling Harry’s belt. Harry feels like he should be pushing Louis away, demanding an apology before he lets Louis do whatever he wants with him. Louis left, Louis abandoned him, doesn’t that mean something?

But then he realizes he’s going to let Louis do it anyways, so why waste time apologizing?

Harry’s hands come up and scratch at the small of Louis’s back, tugging on the bottom of his tshirt, a soundless question. Louis answers it, pulling off his t shirt and before Harry knows what’s happening, Louis has reached behind him, pushed open the door, and is walking Harry backwards towards the bed.

Harry shivers with anticipation as Louis crawls up over him, his hair falling onto Harry’s chest. He pushes with his legs and Harry scoots back into the pillows.

"I’m sorry…"

Harry closes his eyes and the sweet feeling of Louis’s lips on his is more than enough of an apology and he thinks his soft sigh into Louis’s mouth is more than enough of an acceptance. But Louis whispers it repeatedly into his mouth, licking his way across his teeth and his lips, the scratchy brush of his tongue igniting every part of Harry.

Harry guesses when you love somebody, apologies aren’t really necessary, are they? Harry can feel it in the way Louis’s hands stroke down the back of his legs, pulling his trousers off. He can hear it in the breathy moans that come out of Louis’s mouth as Harry pushes up into him.

When you love someone, a kiss can say more than words ever can. Harry thinks that maybe why it’s so easy to hurt the people you love is because you know they’re going to forgive you.

Harry forgives Louis in the way he runs his tongue through the crease of Louis’s leg and hip and he forgives Louis in the way he just whispers it into Louis’s neck as Louis pants above him.

Louis apologizes and Harry forgives him, because that’s just all they can do to get through this. One day, maybe, there won’t be anything to apologize for. But right now, mistakes are made and words are thrown like daggers and shit sucks. But as long as they’re coming back to each other and whispering I’m sorry, they can get through it.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> title is quote by Reinhold Niebuhr.


End file.
